Listening
to jazz
Her
flashes are the only flashes I need to bring me back to life
Called
me a broke ass and it hurt because it was true and I know dollar signs are the
only things right now adding up for her
Stick
your finger in the socket and shoot off like a rocket to uncharted planets
Go
ahead and listen, listen till your blue in the face and lemon juice is running
down your supple thighs
We
started off as strangers, but by the time she was through introducing me to the
record collection streaming in her mind I knew we’d been connected long before
either one of us called Earth our home
We’re
caterpillar astronauts and have a plan of attack that has everything to do with
survival and very little to do with greed or gluttony or the self-interest of
most cam models or poets
I’ll
never forget the first time I entered her from behind and how the noises she
made reminded me of a bird sanctuary I’d visited once in Florida
She
enjoys being made love to by multiple partners because she said it helped her
to cover up a multitude of sins
Reading
The Abortion by Richard Brautigan to
her is a memory I yearn to create and that’s even before we rob our first bank and
refer to one another as Bonnie and Clyde
Chasing
our collective blues away by getting lost in a rainbow of colors yet thought of
and one final kiss from her full lips that never tell a lie
No
clear idea why I am writing these poems for her when she doesn’t seem at all
interested in them, but she’s an inspiration and that’s something I refuse to
ignore or deny as I turn the page and press play on the jukebox in my hungry
mind
Charles Cicirella
4/25/18